Page 52 of A Loser by Christmas
“Yes.” I don’t care what he wants to do with his last week in London as long as we spend it together.
His smile is slow and sweet. So is his order. “Go smash that entry.”
That’s what I spend all evening doing.
And all night.
London no doubt parties outside the marina. I know there’s one in the sales tent celebrating the last night of the show. All I see is Calum on my laptop until long after midnight. I render a final file, but don’t hit submit just yet, still not convinced I’ve told a complete story.
I also don’t remember falling asleep. All I know is that it’s still dark when my alarm goes off at six. I brush my teeth, still blurry but determined to review my entry one more time. Before I can, my boat lurches in the water to announce the arrival of an extremely early visitor.
I let Calum in. The river breeze slips inside with him, icy compared to my cosy cabin. I shiver in my boxers and T-shirt. “I thought you were busy this morning.”
“I will be from nine.” He hesitates. “Do you have to help take the boats back to the yard right away?” It’s dim here inside with the potholes still curtained. I see enough to spot his relief after I shake my head. “Good. Because this arrived while I was out last night. I couldn’t wait until after my call back to give it to you.” He digs in a pocket to retrieve a palm-sized...
I don’t know what it is.
My face must show that. He shrugs out of his coat and herds me back to sit on my bunk where he says, “Watch.” He sets this gift flat on my lap and clicks a button. Just like that, the cabin lights up so much brighter. So does his smile.“I was talking to Mum about you.”
After overhearing a mother-lion conversation, I’m not sure how I feel about that. Perhaps the light is bright enough for himto notice—Calum kneels beside me and gets busy explaining. “I mean, I talked to her about the egg. She asked how it was going, and I said I didn’t know. That you didn’t know either, and that it was on your mind. That’s when she told me about egg candlers like this one. The light is bright enough to shine through the shell. You should be able to see how the duckling is developing.”
I’ve watched Calum on YouTube. Seen his face when he goes all in. This morning, the camera trained on the incubator would show his fans a different person. This version hesitates, his lips pressed into concerned tightness when I know they’re actually the softest.
To kiss.
That’s what I do. I kiss his closed lips, and both of us hold an egg I didn’t expect to care for, but at least I don’t have to do it alone. Calum lets me know he cares plenty. It’s right there in his voice pitching lower. “I... I didn’t think this through. I just wanted...”
“What?” I murmur back like anyone might overhear us. “What did you want?”
“To score at least one win. For you. For when I’m not?—”
Here.
Calum clicks off that bright light, then faces what the new year will bring. “I wanted to set your mind at rest, but...” He looks away. That doesn’t stop me from feeling his hands tighten around the egg like he’s inherited that protective streak from his mother. “But if there’s nothing good to see inside this, I might actually be delivering bad news.”
“Go ahead. I can take it.”
“Yeah?”
He’s full of doubt. I know how hard that sucks. I’ve felt the same way about my entry, so I keep talking, and I wouldn’t have guessed a close encounter with killer whales would ever come inuseful, but that’s what I mention. “Honestly, try getting the bad news that a pod of orca didn’t get the memo.”
“About what?”
“That they’re meant to eat the rich, not take chunks out of a YouTuber’s rudder. I dealt with that.” And lately, having to change course hasn’t been all bad. It’s actually been an unexpected gift all its own. “So if this egg isn’t going to hatch, I’ll deal with that too.”
Our heads are so close together there’s no avoiding his quiet order. He doesn’t aim it at me.
“Get it the fuck together, Trelawney.”
“You don’t have to.” I shift my hold so my hands tighten around his. “Leave this...”
“Egg candler.”
“Leave the egg candler with me. I can check if there’s a duckling inside without you.”
“No.” He drags in one of those hockey-player-sized deep breaths. “We’ll do it together, yeah?”
“D’accord. Together.”
